


When AA meetings go wrong

by wolfy_writing



Category: Captain Marvel (Marvel Comics), Machine Man, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Ms. Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-06-01 00:14:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15130859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfy_writing/pseuds/wolfy_writing
Summary: Carol Danvers can't figure out if the newcomer in her AA meeting is seeking help or just there to troll everyone.It doesn't help that the newcomer is Aaron Stack.(Set shortly before the 2007-2008 Marvel Comics Presents Machine Man story.  Carol is still Ms. Marvel)





	When AA meetings go wrong

**Author's Note:**

> All AA stuff is best guess based on internet research, so pardon any inaccuracies.

Carol showed up early for her AA meeting. It was her turn to help set up chairs.

This was part of the reason why she still went to meeting at least once a week, more if she’d been having a rough time.

When she went to meeting, she wasn’t treated like Ms. Marvel, like the hero or villain of the latest news story, like someone with powers. She was Carol, an alcoholic, who could live on a simple, human scale, and do small, useful things like putting the chairs in order.

The fate of the world didn’t depend on the chairs. The fate of the meeting didn’t depend on her doing the chairs perfectly, or doing them entirely by herself. It only depended on her willingness to show up and try.

—

Just before the meeting started, a new member walked in.

He had sunglasses on.

This was not unusual. Carol had taken _months_ before she stopped showing up at every meeting in sunglasses and a baseball cap.

The false mustache _was_ unusual, though.

And worse yet, _familiar_.

 _Not him_ , thought Carol. _Anyone but him_.

And that was unfair, and worse yet, unkind.

After all, the worst thing she could say about him was that he was an exceptionally _annoying_ robot.

As Aaron Stack took a chair, he glanced over at Carol, and gave an unsettling grin.

If he was just here to mess with her, she was going to find him after the meeting and teach him a lesson.

—

“Our primary purpose is to stay sober and help other alcoholics to achieve sobriety.” Ben, who was chairing this meeting, wrapped up the preamble “Is there anyone here who’s attending their first meeting?”

Two hands went up.

One was a thin young man who’d been sitting in the back of the room.

The other was Aaron. “Welcome,” said Ben “We’re glad you’re here.”

“That’s strange,” said Aaron. "I mean this group is only for people with something wrong with them. I’d think you’d be sorry to see new people, instead of reveling on other people’s pain.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” said Ben. “I meant that since you have some concerns about your drinking, we’re glad you’re here getting help. Could you please state your name for the group?”

“I thought that this organization was supposed to at least give the _impression_ of anonymity. Obviously, with modern technology, true anonymity is ancient history, and anyone in this room with so much as cell phone could be spying on the whole group. And it would, of course, be trivially easy for a robot such as myself to collect data on all of you and use for whatever purpose I wish. But I thought we were supposed to _pretend_ to not know who anyone was.”

Great, now he was going to make people paranoid. This could mess with people’s recovery, and Carol _still_ didn’t know if he had a problem or was just being difficult.

Could robots even _have_ drinking problems?

Ben looked taken aback. “We ask group members to maintain anonymity out of respect for each other. If you feel comfortable, you could state your first name only, or your first name plus an initial.”

“Oh. I’m Aaron. Aaron S. And I’ve been informed I have a drinking problem.”

“Informed by who?”, asked Ben.

“The tiny Celestial who sits on my shoulder and heckles me everywhere I go” Aaron replied, his face blank and calm behind the stupid fake mustache.

(He’d insisted on wearing it when informed he needed a disguise to go incognito in Chile. Only Aaron Stack could manage to disguise himself _sarcastically_.)

Ben gave Aaron a blank look, and then recovered. “Well, we’re glad you’re here. We would like you to have a newcomer’s chip, to commemorate your first day of sobriety.”

“Can I collect it now, or do I have to wait until I’m sober?”

Ben blinked. “You’ve been drinking today?”

“My robot brain needed beer.”

“Well, we do have another meeting tomorrow, if you want to collect it then.”

Aaron frowned. “ _Two_ meetings? What is the monetary value of the chip? Because unlike most of you fleshy ones, my time is worth valuable signing bonuses from most government agencies”

Ben put the chip away. “If you want to discuss this more, please stay after the meeting. We have a number of members who would be happy to answer your questions.”

“So my job is to save the☠☠☠☠ world but you expect me to sit around for an entire _hour_ in order to find out if this place is worth my time?”

“Thank you for your input,” said Ben. He turned to the other newcomer. “Welcome. Do you care to introduce yourself?”

“Hi, I’m Mark, and I…I don’t know if I’m an alcoholic. How do you know?”

“That’s a good question,” said Ben.

“A brain scan,” said Aaron, putting his hand up. “Or genetic testing.”

“One of the rules of the group is no cross-talk,” said Ben. “We all have the opportunity to share our stories without interruption.” He turned back to Mark. “You’ll get a chance to hear from the group members, and we have a number of members who’d be happy to discuss things with you further.  Hopefully that will help you get some answers."

“That just sounds wildly inefficient," said Aaron. "You can identify biological susceptibility to addiction very easily these days. Why sit around recounting and comparing anecdotal evidence when you can get a precise, scientific answer?” “

I’m going to ask you to respect the group norm.”

“I’m going to ask you to get some less stupid norms.”

“If you’re not willing to respect the group norms,” said Ben. “I’m going to ask that you leave today’s meeting.”

“You’re going to _ask_?” Aaron let out a sharp, barking laugh. “What will you do if I refuse? What could _any_ of you fleshy ones do if I refuse?”

He glanced around the room. His gaze landed on Carol.

She looked back at him.

“Never mind, I’ll stop.”

 —

“Hi, I’m Carol, and I’m an alcoholic.” _You better not be recording this, robot._

Aaron gave her the same unsettling grin.

“I’m not sharing today,” she said. “Pass.”

Ben gave her a quick look. Most days she had at least a little to say.

Still, there’d be other meetings. Ones without obnoxious robots grinning at her the entire time.

…what if he came to every meeting? What if he made _this_ his home group? What if she had to either switch groups or put up with his camera eyes and creepy smile every single time she shared?

Carol hoped desperately that Aaron wouldn’t have the attention span for that kind of obnoxiousness.

—

“Hi, I’m Aaron. I’m not going to declare myself an alcoholic because it’s scientifically ridiculous, and I don’t believe hallucinations can accurately judge that kind of thing. However, I heard rumors of a bar that will trade these chips you hand out for free beers. Although if it requires two meetings, it may not be worth the time.”

Carol stifled a sigh. Every alcoholic had heard that rumor.

“Could you tell us a bit more about yourself?”, Ben asked. “How much do you drink in a day?”

“In a typical day? Usually about ten.”

“Ten drinks?”

“Ten kegs.”

There was an awkward pause.“That’s…a lot.”

“I know,” Aaron nodded. “It gets expensive. However, I’ve switched to biofuel to save money. It’s normally mixed with gasoline at a ratio of fifteen percent ethanol to gasoline, which makes it a bit stronger than beer, and considerably cheaper, even if lacks the flavor of a good Pilsner, although few things taste as nice as a cool, refreshing beer. Truly, of all of the different foods and beverages you fleshy ones have made, beer is the finest, the most flavorful, and the most pleasurable. I don't know why all of you don't just drink beer all day long.”

Carol let her face drop into her hands.

—

“Today’s topic is higher powers,” said Ben. “I wanted to encourage discussion on how people with different belief systems approach the question of higher powers, and why a higher power is so important to recovery.”

Aaron immediately put his hand up. “Am I allowed to ask questions now, or are there more _group norms_ requiring us to all waste more time?”

Ben shrugged, then nodded. “I suppose that a question from one of our newcomers would be a good way to start this. What’s your question?”

“What if you’ve met higher powers and they think you’re a☠☠☠☠?”

There was an awkward pause.

Carol looked up at Aaron. It was hard to tell, but he didn’t _look_ like he was just messing with people at this point.

Sarah spoke up. “I can relate to what Aaron is saying, because after what I’d done, with my drinking, I felt like God wouldn’t ever forgive me. I thought God must hate me. But as I progressed in recovery…”

“Your god’s fictional,” said Aaron. “I’m talking about the _real_ powers behind the universe, the closest thing you can imagine to real gods. The vast cosmic beings who are beyond human comprehension. I met them, and they told me I was a☠☠☠☠. Apparently I bored them.” He looked downcast. “

You…met gods.” “Not gods…okay, well, I suppose Thor would count as a god. I doubt he’d be much good as the higher power to help me _stop_ drinking.” His chin sank glumly into his hands. “I met the Celestials, cosmic entities beyond gods, and they told me to my face that I’m a☠☠☠☠. They would have zero interest in restoring me to any definition of sanity, or helping me regain control over my life. The only thing they cared about was making me go away so they could stop dealing with me.”

Everyone looked looked lost.

People didn’t usually share this kind of thing.

People didn’t usually _experience_ this kind of thing.

But it was sounding like the annoying robot was having a real problem. And even if he _was_ a pain, she wasn’t going to leave him twisting in the wind without trying to help.

Carol suppressed a sigh. “I would like to share about this topic.”

Ben gave her a confused look. “Thank you, Carol.”

“I can relate to what Aaron’s saying,” Carol said. “I too have encountered vast cosmic powers.”

She’d never said anything about this kind of thing at meeting.

She talked about working in law enforcement. She talked about having a challenging job. She talked about being ex-military. And they all pretended not to realize who exactly she was.

It was her little oasis of normal. It was her chance to be just Carol.

But there was something in Aaron's face she couldn't ignore.

“I’ve been into parts of the galaxy where almost no human has been. I’ve had people do things to me, experiments, try to turn me into a weapon for a cause I didn’t understand. I’ve encountered beings of tremendous power, and knowledge, outside of what any normal mind can comprehend, beings who are the nearest things to gods I can imagine. And some of them are absolute☠☠☠☠.” Aaron looked at her, and straightened up a bit in his chair. “Some people are religious, and I respect that,” said Carol. “I’m not claiming anything about other people’s beliefs, but I know that with what I’ve encountered, it’s hard for me, specifically, to believe in any kind of God. Well, I know Thor, but he's not the god you call on to stop drinking."  Thor had...attempted to be supportive, but he kept being confused by the whole 'It's very important I don't drink at all' thing.  "

"What I believe in," said Carol, "is all of you. The God I’ve turned my life over to is this Group of Drunks. When I assume I know best, that no one else can possibly understand, and that I have to do everything alone, I make mistakes.” She drew a deep breath. “Bad ones. People get hurt. But when I come here, I listen, and I’m reminded that I’m not alone, with a life that no one understands. I’m...”. She stopped herself from saying _only human_. “I’m just a person, and can live on an every day scale. I can make a phone call when I need someone to listen. I can set up chairs for the meeting and make things just a little bit easier for others. I can get small things right, and that spills over to bigger decisions. All of you make me wiser, stronger and better able to make good choices than I am on my own. This group is my higher power.”

Aaron looked at her intently, then briefly lowered his sunglasses. “Gotcha.”

 Ben turned to him. “What?”

“Got you. Well, her. Ms. Marvel. I’m not an alcoholic, obviously. Unlike you fleshbags, my superior robot brain doesn’t form the chemical pathways that generate addiction. I was trying to get Ms. Marvel here to make some big speech, which my robot eyes and brain would automatically record as a video file. I thought it would be something more embarrassing, although her calling gods absolute☠☠☠☠ should be worth something with some creative editing.” Aaron stood up. “Mission accomplished. And don’t complain to S.H.I.E.L.D., Carol, they’ll never believe you. I’ve set my holo-projector to show me in their library right now, reading a good book.”

Carol let out a frustrated sigh.

Aaron really was a☠☠☠☠.

—

It took some digging in S.H.I.E.L.D. records, because he didn’t have a home address, but she finally tracked Aaron down. He was apparently living alone on a giant floating ship of some sort.

(It possibly had something to do with the mysterious team he and Monica were on. Monica had apparently suffered a breakdown and came back ranting about broccoli men and a giant Fin Fang Foom sticking people down his pants.)

(Carol thought that was probably the natural consequences of being forced to work with Aaron for an entire year.)

Carol waited until night, when he was distracted. (He appeared to be building...a Spider-Man robot? He had a keg connected to a pump that seemed to be pouring gasoline directly into his brain.)

Then she tore a wall off his room.

Aaron looked up. “Is this about the video? Are you open to blackmail?”

Carol grabbed him by the neck, and dragged him five hundred feet into the air. “You get _one_ warning, Aaron. You do _not_ screw with people at an AA meeting like that.” “I did not actually _intend_ to upload any video. Among other things, the embarrassment capacity was marginal. I just thought it would be funny to see how you reacted.”

Carol lifted Aaron up until they were eye-to-eye. “You are _never_ going to do anything like that again. You are not going to go into an AA meeting, mine or anyone else’s, and be intentionally rude, or try to provoke people, or freak them out by making them think you took a video of the meeting. And you _won’t_ apply your creative little robot brain finding any loopholes. You just cut that crap out. Do you understand me?”

“Just one more time? I was planning on trying the same trick with Iron Man, only...”

“Listen. Aaron.” Carol drew a deep breath. “I haven’t told Monica about your little _signing bonus_ for Operation: Lightning Storm. How do you think she’d react if she found out?”

That shut him up.

“If you do anything to screw with anyone’s recovery in any way, she gets the full story. She’s going to hear how _amusing_ you found your robot girl that cries, and then she’s going to hear _exactly_ where you live. Are we clear?”

“We are,” said Aaron. “I won’t do it again.”

“Good. That settles that.” She relaxed her grip. “Now if you actually want _help_ with your drinking problem...”

“I don’t have a drinking problem.”

“So you were lying about drinking ten kegs of beer a day?”

“Yes,” said Aaron. “That was a lie. As was the tiny Celestial who sits on my shoulder and heckles me, obviously. And the godlike cosmic beings calling me a☠☠☠☠, rather than recognizing what an incredibly impressive robot I am. All of that was outrageous lies as part of my clever ruse to provoke you. You can let go of my collar now. I am capable of cancelling the gravity equation and maintaining independent flight.”

Carol let go of Aaron. “You were pouring gasoline into your brain just now.”

“Fuel. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a robot.” Aaron just...stayed, like he’d been left on an invisible shelf. It was unsettling, and from the look on his face, he knew it and was savoring her discomfort.

“I thought you were solar-powered.”

“I can use multiple different sources of energy.”

“All I’m saying,” said Carol. “I’m not telling you that you can’t _go_ to AA meetings, just that you can’t use them as an excuse to screw with people. If you’re there, but you’re behaving reasonably, I have no issue with that.”

“Screwing with people is the only purpose I could possibly have at those meetings. I am _not_ the same as you fleshy ones, I don’t have the same needs, and I am _not_ helped by the same things. If I _did_ have a problem, which I don’t, I’d deal with it by relying on the only one on the planet brilliant enough to comprehend the workings of my robot mind.”

“Look, if you want to talk to Tony…”

“Please, fleshy one. I was referring to myself.”

“There are some things you can’t do alone,” said Carol.

“Some things you fleshy ones can’t do alone. Now if you pardon me, I have a large hole in my ship to repair.”

“Okay.” Carol nodded. “Just...don’t feel like you’ve burned your bridges. I’ve made plenty of mistakes myself, and I had to learn the hard way that I can’t fix everything myself.”

“Of course not,” said Aaron, as he fired up thrusters. “ _You’re_ only human.”

Before she could reply, he flew away.


End file.
